


happenstance

by perniciousOverkill



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Animal Death, Cannibalism?, Character Study, Chasing, Graphic Violence, M/M, No Beta read we die like men, Predator/Prey, Theyre animals, dirk and jake's names are never mentioned but dirk is the cat and jake is the bear, dirk is a cat and he dies, dirkjake study, furry shit, not actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:53:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28441968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perniciousOverkill/pseuds/perniciousOverkill
Summary: a kitten is lost in the forest; a kitten is being stalked by a predator much larger than he is, and he doesn’t even know.
Relationships: Jake English/Dirk Strider
Kudos: 12





	happenstance

**Author's Note:**

> this one is really weird i don't really know how to explain it to you but i thought that the dynamic would be interesting to explore. i also never name dirk or jake, all you have to know is that dirk is the kitten and jake is the bear. happy reading :3
> 
> also if you read it and enjoy it i would really appreciate if you left a comment and kudos :) it's set so that guests can leave them too. i'm really appreciative for comments particularly, they absolutely mean the world to me, just tell me what you thought if you have a second to spare <3

A kitten is lost in the forest.

He tells himself he is a beast to be feared, and that he is a natural predator, and he is not entirely wrong, for he has killed many mice and birds, slashed them down with his claws and carried them back to his home where he fed on them for a hours. And for every little mouse he killed he felt himself grow bigger and bigger, going from house cat to lion. He tells himself his mane is large and fierce; he tells himself that he’s earned his saunter.

But the kitten is being stalked by a predator much larger than he is, and he doesn’t even know.

The kitten is unaware that any confidence he has is manufactured and not grounded in reality, at least not the reality he currently inhabits. He’s never seen himself honestly, and if he did, he maybe would have realized just how small he was, how thin his fur had become from starvation, how much his skin hugged his tiny little ribs. And if he had realized all of this before, maybe he would not have ventured into the forest looking for something to fight.

A kitten is lost in the forest and he refuses to admit he is lost.

His feet are getting tired from walking, and he starts shaking them off when the weight is off them; there’s nowhere to rest. The ground is soft from recent rain and dirty, too dirty for the kitten’s liking, and every inch of ground is covered in twigs like fire pokers. The kitten whines under his breath to himself. Every inch of forest looks the exact same to him. He could turn around, but he thinks that he’s done that before, and maybe a time before that. He doesn’t know which direction is which, and even if he did know, there’s no telling whether he would know which direction is the _right_ direction. His eyelids feel heavy, as heavy as the wet in the air, and his whole body is beginning to droop with the primal desire to get some fucking sleep.

A bear is following him.

The bear has _been_ following him from the moment the kitten stepped foot into the forest. Despite how very little the kitten is, it was hard not to notice the way he stepped. Indoor outdoors. The kitten did not belong there. The kitten belonged in a suburban residence, the kind of place a bear can never be, wearing a collar that is much closer to a ribbon. He belongs somewhere he can behave and be rewarded for it. But the bear does not know that the kitten is stubborn and would grow bored of a commercial lifestyle, would grow a festering hatred of those who cared for him. The kitten rejects care entirely, defaulting to independence, the same independence that has landed him in the sights of a bear (a bear who is starting to get a bit hungry).

A branch snaps underneath the bear’s foot.

The kitten does not really think that anything is following him (the bear is shrouded in fog), but he chooses to pick up to a trot anyways, feet pulsing in ache. The bear does not feel the need to speed up; he can follow the kitten with only a gentle walk. Drops of dew and fogwater run through mattes in the kitten’s fur and collect at his belly, and the chill is slowing him down, but he doesn’t even know. This kitten barely knows anything. By all means, this kitten _thinks_ he knows more than enough, but the forest, and its bear, watch the way he hesitates and stumbles, and they know that he is clueless. 

By happenstance, the forest creaks in front of the kitten, a few steps down the path where he still cannot see.

The kitten falters.

He backs up a little bit, listening to the ambience, and then decides that he is, in fact, in danger. He turns on his heels and picks up into a sprint, trying to choke down the beating of his own heart. The kitten only runs for a few seconds when there is suddenly a wall in his way, and he cannot slow down enough in time to stop himself from slamming face first into the wall, body compressing into it. The wall is soft; the wall moulds around him. The wall, for a brief moment, is inviting, and in this moment, the kitten melts into the warmth of the wall. The way that it bends around him, takes him in, it feels like an embrace. The kitten gives all to this wall. The wall’s fur is thick and designed to withstand the bitter freeze of the forest, and the wall’s fur has not been wetted by the weather, and so the wall’s fur is like a blanket. The wall is like a bed; the wall is sleep. But then the wall lets him go, rejects him even, and sends him back onto the forest floor, the forest floor that is cold and hard and awake. The kitten scrambles onto his feet and looks at the wall and the wall is a bear. 

The kitten knows he has to run, but he also knows that he has already lost.

The bear does not mind when the kitten turns around yet again and takes advantage of his head start. The bear likes the chase. It is not often that the bear is given a reason to run, but he enjoys the feeling. Enjoys the way the thin layer of moss and twig gives way underneath his feet, the way the wind fights back against him. But the wind does not win. The bear does not lose fights. He’s catching up to the kitten in a matter of seconds; the only thing the kitten has on him is being nimble, but the kitten has never thought of himself as small and thus has never learned that he is nimble. So the kitten does not duck behind logs, does not jump from stump to stump; the kitten follows a straight line, one that is easy to predict and even easier to follow.

The bear is almost disappointed; this is barely a chase.

He swipes down the kitten easily with his claws, sends the kitten over onto his back, spine taken out swiftly by the hit. The kitten yowls in pain, and writhes on the ground, but he can’t flip himself over. He can’t run anymore. The bear presses his paw down into the kitten’s exposed belly, claws digging into the skin, and the kitten wants to hiss but instead he whimpers. There is no point in fighting, there is no point in crying (but he cries anyways). The bear doesn’t do anything for a moment, just watches the kitten squirm underneath his grasp. The kitten’s orange fur is being stained red, and the bear can smell how sweet his blood is. He wonders if every bit of the kitten’s innards will be as sweet.

The kitten continues to snivel, worming around helplessly, as if to fill up the moment between now and his demise. The bear locks his claws into the kitten’s belly, and drags them across, opening up and giving full access to everything that was once hidden behind skin. The kitten tries to cry out, but he’s so small so there is not very much left in him. His meow is empty and hoarse and sounds like it is miles away. The bear shoves his claw into the kitten’s stomach and digs out everything inside, scattering his stomach and liver and intestines over the forest floor. He snatches them up into his maw, mashes them around in his mouth, staining his teeth with the kitten’s sweet paint. 

The kitten watches, moans and shakes under the blistering pain that is immobilizing him. His organs are so small, so much smaller than a lion’s organs should be. The kitten begins to realize that he may have drastically mistook his own grandeur, and somehow it is the worst thing that is happening to him, the thing that hurts the most. In his defeat, the kitten goes limp against the soil beneath him, tries to tune out the pain by focusing on how warm his blood is.

The bear has finished his snack and it tasted so good and he wants seconds, so he comes back around, sticks his hands into the kitten’s chest again. He snaps the kitten’s ribs to get access to what he wants the most and tosses the ribs aside. The kitten watches them fly off, knowing that he will never see them again. The bear takes a grasp of the kitten’s heart between his claws, and the kitten hopes that he will just yank it out and get it over with, but the bear tears it out slowly, lets each heartstring stretch. The kitten opens his mouth but cannot give enough force to make a noise. Sinew goes soaring about as things snap suddenly, and the kitten can see that his heart is no longer in his chest. The bear looks at it, takes it in; the bear knows that this is special. 

The kitten and the bear look at each other for a brief moment, make eye contact as the bear holds the kitten’s heart precariously, keeps it safe in his grasp.

And then the bear puts the heart in his mouth and pops it between his teeth. The kitten should not be able to feel it, but he swears that he does. He’s not holding onto much anymore; everything is starting to get a bit fuzzy, but he can feel every bite the bear takes. The only thing he can see is the way that the bear relishes in the flavour; the bear has never had a berry so sweet. This kitten’s sweet heart is indulgence, it is opulence. The bear knows that he will never have something so good ever again, and he already regrets ever having met this kitten, knowing that he will be empty for the rest of his life, chasing stray cats in a hapless effort to recreate this high.

The kitten is just glad to die loved by somebody.


End file.
